


Still Got It

by AnchoredTether



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Cancer, F/M, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Pidge POV, The Fault in Our Stars AU no one asked for, The fault in our stars, dark themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-06-12 08:03:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15335466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnchoredTether/pseuds/AnchoredTether
Summary: <--Inspired by @HonestlyPrettyChill's beautiful Plance Fault in Our Stars artwork-->"Everyone is useful in some shape or form, at some point in their life, to an insurmountable number of people. Everyone's existence affects the fabric of space and time whether they realize it or not, and this reality as we know it is affected by your very existence. So..." I waved a hand dismissively as if I just explained something rather simple. "Like I said... no one is useless."Lance was dumbstruck for a moment, his jaw slightly slacked and his eyebrows lowered. "Holy crow." Then his bewilderment slowly turned into a wicked grin. "Aren't you something else."





	1. The Therapy Session in Which I Spoke

Late in the winter of my sixteenth year, my mother decided I was depressed, presumably because I rarely left the house, spent quite a lot of time in bed, played the same video game over and over, ate infrequently, and devoted quite a bit of my abundant free time to thinking about death.  
  
But... I did all those things on a regular basis.  
  
Mom became pretty adamant that I go to this therapy group, and of course, Dad and Matt jumped all over me saying  _it would be good for me_  and that  _I might even make a friend_. It's not like I'm some lonely girl with absolutely no friends. I have Hunk. I just prefer solitude and technology and video games over people. People are exhausting. Probably the only reason I tolerate Hunk and his extroverted nature is because we can talk about tech for hours on end, whereas everyone else in the universe just doesn't get it.  
  
It doesn't help that most people give me that pitiful look when they notice my nasal cannula.  
  
Oh yeah. I have lung cancer.  
  
I'm like a computer with low RAM. Translation: I have a hard time breathing and doing other basic physical functions such as going upstairs. I'm slow when it comes to anything physical and because of that, some people look at me like I'm a kicked puppy.  
  
Maybe... just maybe being around people with similar problems will be different.  
  
Ten percent of the reason I decided to go was out of sheer curiosity. The remaining ninety percent was to make Matt shut up. Although now that I think about it, Matt never did shut up, he constantly wanted details about each meeting as if he were expecting me to meet my soulmate in a therapy session focused on death. Woe is me.  
  
I went, and went, and went, kicking and screaming the whole way. Metaphorically, of course. Although between moody pouting on the car ride to the church and snappy replies when mom reminded me to get ready, I did consider screaming... often. The therapy sessions were depressing as hell. I didn't need to hear about how others survived their chemo or their surgeries or their twelve years of cancer when I already had a perfectly good role model. My dad and brother's colleague and friend, Shiro, was a survivor of osteosarcoma (also known as bone cancer). He lost his entire right arm, but thanks to modern technology he had a decent prosthetic. I will admit, a part of me loves it when he visits so I can examine the tech of his limb at work. Sometimes Matt has to swat at me and remind me to stop drooling over Shiro's literal cancer scar.  
  
I'm not much of a talker so I rarely share any stories or thoughts at the group sessions. I try to listen and give a damn to everyone's depressing problems, but usually I'm just thinking about what I'm going to make my character do in Skyrim when I get home. The only reason I've continued attending these sessions after two months is that it keeps mom happy. The last thing I want is to do something that will make her depressed. I'm already depressed, so a little more depression each week can't do me any more damage than what is already done.  
  
This week was different.  
  
A boy with deep blue eyes kept staring at me.  
  
As we went around with introductions, it was my turn before his. While everyone was staring at me because I was speaking, it felt like only the handsome stranger was looking at me and it was causing my face to redden.   
  
"I'm Pidge. I'm sixteen, almost seventeen. I had thyroid cancer but it got treated about a year ago and now I just have a satellite in my lungs. I'm doing okay." The words tumbled out so fast I wondered if newbie caught any of it.  
  
The regulars continued to introduce themselves but I still felt those blue eyes on me. He didn't stare at me unblinkingly like a creeper for ten minutes straight, but for whatever reason his eyes continued to gravitate towards me in the same way that your eyes kinda drift towards roadkill when you're driving.  
  
Although I'm pretty sure he wasn't staring at me because I was a dead animal.  
  
That was just a horrible analogy.  
  
"The name's Lance."  _Oh boy was his voice smooth_. It rolled like the gentle draw and pull of the ocean's edge and it was pulling me in like the tide. "I'm seventeen and I just survived osteosarcoma about..." He counted on his slender fingers. "Eight weeks ago. I lost my leg, but none of my charm."  
  
Automatically my eyes fell to his legs, which was probably the rudest thing I could have done in that moment. He was wearing jeans and high rise boots so I couldn't discern which was flesh and which was metal. What were the odds of meeting someone who survived the exact same cancer as Shiro, and lost a limb because of it? I was itching to see how the tech differed for a leg prosthetic to that of an arm but it was probably rude to ask a stranger if you could examine their fake appendage.  
  
I barely noticed what today's subject was until the group session leader, Coran, called out Lance. Everyone else was prattling on about something while I was trying to avoid the fact that osteosarcoma-man continually drew his gaze toward me. Apparently we were talking about fears.  
  
"Lance, perhaps you'd like the share your fears with the group." Coran said in his trademark pleasant tone.  
  
"My fears?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I fear forsakenness."  
  
"Could you elaborate? Is it a religious forsakenness?"  
  
"No, not like that. I guess you could also call it abandonment." There was a soberness in his eyes that made me curious as to what kinds of scars he bore. "At times I'm nothing more than a third wheel. Some days it feels like a seventh wheel." He gave off a soft, nervous laugh. "l used to be on the swim team, was pretty good at it too. Now I've lost a leg. I'm useless to the team. I'm currently attending the Garrison and I want to be a pilot but... apparently piloting requires both your legs. I don't know how much longer they'll continue their cancer-kid pity and let me crash the simulations before they officially flunk me out. So yeah... I fear forsakenness. Being taken for granted and disregarded because of your uselessness. I'm already halfway there, so I guess the only thing I ought to fear at this point is fear itself."  
  
The room was quiet for a moment and despite the somberness in Lance's tone, he was smiling as if all of this was no big deal. I could see it in his eyes, however. The smile was a facade. I wondered idly how many times he faked such an appearance for the sake of others.   
  
"No one is useless."  
  
I'm not sure where my voice came from but I spoke up so loud it echoed softly in the vaulted space and Coran had to do a double take. All eyes were on me, again, and I could tell some of them were wider than usual because I rarely ever spoke in these sessions unless Coran yanked it out of me, but yet again I only felt the sincere stare of the boy with eyes the shade of the sky just before the stars came out.   
  
"My dad once said..." My voice started to crack but I pushed through it. "That everyone has a purpose. We may not see it or understand it, but everything in the universe is connected, much like the energy that flows through all living things or how everything in a computer is made up of the same series of numbers. You may feel useless to everyone and everything, including yourself, but you are use _ful_  to someone. Someone out there has been moved by the words you've said. Someone out there has been inspired by your actions. Someone out there has been cheered up by your spirit. Everyone is useful in some shape or form, at some point in their life, to an insurmountable number of people. Everyone's existence affects the fabric of space and time whether they realize it or not, and this reality as we know it is affected by your very existence. So..." I waved a hand dismissively as if I just explained something rather simple. "Like I said...  _no one_  is useless."  
  
Lance was dumbstruck for a moment, his jaw slightly slacked and his eyebrows lowered. "Holy crow." Then his bewilderment slowly turned into a wicked grin. "Aren't you something else."  
  
I raised my eyebrows at him in a silent question mark. Who said 'holy crow?' Wasn't the more common phrase 'holy cow?' Either way I'm pretty sure I just imploded his brain with my answer, and Coran is also looking a tad surprised as well as pleased. We continue on with the therapy session, neither Lance nor I contributing any more to the discussion. I quickly figured out which of his legs was prosthetic. He had a habitual bouncing of his left thigh, and it was a movement that was far too natural to have done with a recently amputated leg.   
  
When the session ended I stood up a bit too quickly and grabbed my oxygen tank to haul myself out of there as fast as I could. I didn't want to talk with anyone. I wanted to run home, hide in my room and play Skyrim on my laptop in the dark and immerse myself in distraction. But before I could leave more than five feet from the ring of chairs, there he was.  
  
"You said your name was... _Pidge?_ " Doubt. Nervousness. And was that a bit of judgement?  
  
"Yeah." I didn't care to elaborate. I pulled on my oxygen tank and continued towards the door.  
  
"Want me to pull that for you?" He asked as he walked alongside me. There was a slight limp in his step.  
  
"It's not that heavy, Lance." Why was I being so snappy? Usually I wasn't this rude to strangers.  
  
"But it's a  _tank._ "  
  
"It's a tank of  _oxygen_. It's not that heavy."  
  
He still seemed perplexed as he shook his head, but continued following anyway. "I just wanted to uh... thank you, for what you said back there."   
  
I wanted to reply quickly with something along the lines of 'it was no big deal' or 'glad I could help' and continue running away, but instead I stopped in my tracks and said nothing. I stared at the floor and felt like I couldn't breathe, which is saying something because ninety percent of the time I have trouble breathing.  
  
"Pidge?" His tone was concerned.  
  
"Do you want to come over for dinner?" Why did I say that. _Why did I say that._  
  
"For dinner?"  
  
All I did was nod. I think that's all I was capable of, given the situation. I was still trying to calculate why my voice box made the impulsive decision to invite him over to my home.  
  
Lance seemed hesitant, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Well, I won't say no to free food. A-are you sure? You don't need to like… call your parents first and see if it's okay if I come over or anything?"  
  
"Nah." I finally gained control over my motor abilities as I grabbed my oxygen tank and started walking again. I was still working on trying to reboot my brain, however. "We always prepare a ton of food in case Hunk or Shiro decide to show up."  
  
"Shiro?" Lance's voice went up an octave from surprise. "You mean like Takashi Shirogane Shiro? _That_ Shiro?"  
  
"Wait, you _know_ him?"  
  
"We had the same cancer! He visited me in the hospital! That guy's my hero!"  
  
"Well I'll be…" I whipped out my phone and started texting Matt. "I'm going to see if he can join us for dinner too. Because why not?"  
  
When Lance laughed my brain realized why I invited him over. "Yeah, might as well!"


	2. His Driving is Comparable to a Disneyland Ride

"Okay I just have to warn you… riding in Red is an… _experience_."

"Red?" I had just made it down the last step with my oxygen tank which I insisted I carry. "You named your car after its color?"

Lance made a strange sound while he bit his lower lip. "Wwwwwell… sorta." He jerked his head towards the street where cars were parked along the side. "Mine's the Jeep."

I looked and although I didn't know cars all that well (Hunk was a bit of a nerd when it came to those kinds of things - he was a mechanic after all) but I did recognize the old, beat up Jeep Cherokee. Except it was a faded _blue_ , not the cherry red I was looking for.

"Are you colorblind?" I knew reds and greens were easily confused for those who were colorblind (heck, Matt was slightly colorblind, I had to sometimes give him pointers on his wardrobe) but I had never heard of anyone confusing reds with blues. "Your car is blue."

"Yep."

"…soooo why do you call it Red?"

He let out a small laugh that held the hint of a snicker, as if he were trying to hold back his laughter. "So, the local ad for it said it was 'red.' But when I actually saw the car it was this _hideous_ shade of orange, like when you grab the crayon you think is red but it's the _'red orange'_ one and then your picture is completely ruined. So I had my car painted and apparently red is a super expensive paint color so I went with blue instead. But I was already set on calling my car 'Red' so it stuck." He shrugged his shoulders, as if it made complete sense. "Besides, my cat's name is Blue so I couldn't name my car the same name."

"Your cat's name is Blue?" I let out a playful scoff. "I worry for your future children, Green and Yellow."

He laughed and the sound was music to my ears. When we reached his car he opened the passenger door for me, his hands offering once again to take my tank but I shooed him away as I pulled it in myself. He held up his hands defensively before closing the door and I thought it was the most endearing thing. He kept wanting to help me and normally I would have gotten more annoyed by his persistence, but despite his desire to constantly help he also _allowed_ me to do it myself. Most guys would have insisted and grabbed the tank from me despite my protesting. Lance always offered a hand but also gave me _the choice whether or not to take it_.

That may have been part of the influencing factor to inviting him over.

When he got situated in his seat he turned to look at me, his blue eyes serious. "Have you ever been to Disneyland?"

"Yeah?"

"Been on the _Indiana Jones_ ride?"

I didn't like where this was headed. "Yes?"

"My driving is like that. Kinda jerky and terrifying and you may _fear for your life_ sometimes, but otherwise compleeeeetely safe," he said with a reassuring hand gesture.

While I wanted to believe him, I still made sure my seatbelt was tight and secure. He ignited the engine and the car purred to life. He hit on the radio and immediately started belting out to the song that played. It caught me off guard at first, especially when he jerked the car out onto the road, but as I watched him move his lips to the tune his energy was contagious as I formed a smile. I began to sing along with him, although not nearly as well, until I half yelped half screamed when Lance jerked the car to a stop at the red stop sign and it was so hard I thought we _hit_ something.

"Sorry. I can't exactly push the brake gently," he said while pursing his lips together and making a popping sound. "I have no idea where we're going. Well I know we're going to your house, but I don't know where your house _is_."

"Oh! Right." Lance started to turn the car right but I quickly yelled, "Nonono! Straight! Go straight!" The car flung back on course and now I was starting to understand why he compared his driving to the _Indiana Jones_ ride. I could start to feel my lunch work its way back up. "I said 'right' as in 'of course' or 'gotcha,' not the direction."

" _Gotcha_ ," he smirked. "Good thing no one was around to see that, right?"

"Right."

"You mean, _of course_."

"Right." Lance started singing again but I had to yell "RIGHT RIGHT RIGHT!!" when he almost missed the turn. "I meant the direction that time!!"

He let out a wheezing sound. "Just point with your fingers from now on."

 

 

~ ~ ~

 

 

I don't think my mom has ever been so ecstatic in her life.

Not only had I made a new friend (wasn't even sure to call him that yet), but it was a _boy_ and _I_ was the one to initiate _inviting him to dinner_. I was surprised my mom didn't accuse me with the _'who are you and what have you done with my daughter?'_ line. Honestly, I was still trying to grasp the fact I invited a stranger boy over for dinner.

I'd never hear the end of it from Matt.

Despite the dread and anxiety I felt crawling up my stomach at the thought of Lance meeting my family and my family reacting to me inviting Lance (and the feeling in my stomach wasn't just from his driving), seeing Shiro answering the door somehow made everything more bearable. The man was practically another brother of mine.

"Hey!" Shiro greeted us with a welcoming smile. "Lance, how's the leg?"

"Still kickin'! How's the arm?"

"Still hanging!" They both laughed and did the classic bro hand grab pull-in hug thing. I shook my head with a smile as I entered the house to see mom and Matt beaming with enough energy to rival the sun. I wanted to groan out loud but I tried to be on my best behavior, if not for Lance's sake, for Shiro's.

Oddly enough, the dinner discussion flowed more smoothly than I could imagine. My family only asked about Lance (and nothing too touchy concerning his leg or his cancer) and Shiro told some funny stories and my dad went on this long tangent about Godel's incompleteness theorems. It wasn't until I blurted the question that was gnawing my mind did the evening take a turn.

"So is your prosthetic trans-tibial or trans-femoral?"

"Katie!" My mother had a look that was a mix of shock and disappointment.

"Oh so that's your real name?" Lance asked in a muffled voice, his mouth full of food.

Mom rolled her eyes and I knew I was going to get a talk later. "She introduces herself as _Pidge_ at the group therapy??"

"I figured it was a nickname," Lance shrugged, swallowing. "But to answer your question, I think trans-femoral. Does that mean my leg ends somewhere along my femur?" When I nodded (since my mouth was full) he continued, "Yeah they told me I have an AK which stands for 'above the knee.' Sounds like I've got a firearm for a leg, which is cool."

"Lance, sweetheart," my mom started, "You don't have to talk about your prosthetic if you don't want to. I'm sorry Katie brought it up."

"You don't have to talk about anything that makes you uncomfortable," my father added.

Lance frowned, shrugging once more. "It's fine. I'm fine. A month ago I probably wouldn't be, but… there's no point in avoiding it. It's a part of me now."

"That's the spirit!" Shiro said with a playful punch from his fake arm. "In time you'll hardly notice it. You're handling it better than I did - took me _months_ to get used to it."

"Yeah but you lost your _arm_ , your _hand_. Arguably you use that a lot more than your leg."

Shiro hummed. "Perhaps for more finite, dexterous movements. But unless you're vegging on the couch watching Netflix all day, you use your legs more."

"It's true," I pitched in. "Plus, a transfemoral amputee must use approximately eighty percent more energy to walk than a person with two whole legs. I'd say your adjustment is harder than Shiro's."

"Huh," Lance said, "I never thought of it that way…"

Matt side-eyed mom before he focused his attention on Lance. "What kind of hydraulics does your prosthetic use? Or does yours have a motor or microprocessor?"

"Uuuhhh…" Lance looked between all of us like we were speaking a different language. "I actually don't know any of that. I just do what the doctors tell me."

"You'd probably have to have some kind of microprocessing to keep the movements of the knee in sync with your left leg," I said, biting my lip as I thought. "Might even utilize myoelectric signals."

"How about I just _show_ you my leg?" Lance suggested. My lips parted in an excited gasp but my mother cut me off before I could gush about how much I wanted to see the mechanics of his prosthetic.

" _Absolutely not._ Katie, I think it's time we served our guest _dessert_ instead of examining him."

"It's fine, Mrs. Holt," he said with a lifted hand, "but I'll at least wait until we're done at the dinner table."

 

 

~ ~ ~

 

 

Despite the fact I never got to see his leg (whenever he tried to show me my mother interfered), we had an enjoyable time together. After dinner and dessert, Lance got to see the ugly side of my family as we played several rounds of Uno. Poor Shiro could never win at that game with his arm's lag. We played a few rounds of Taboo as well, something my father and brother were crazy good at. Lance was constantly surprised at how quickly they guessed the word when only a few clues were given. He had a nice energy about him - the way he smiled, the contagiousness of his laugh, the pleasant upbeat tone of his voice - all contributed to my inevitable falling for him.

When it was time for him to go, my mom sent him home with a bunch of leftovers and extra brownies. I walked with him out to his blue car named Red. The sun had already set but it was still pretty light out and everything was set into a hazy purple dusk. Crickets were chirping and a cool breeze graced the evening air.

"I hope my family wasn't too overwhelming," I said, almost an apology.

Lance snorted. "Your family, overwhelming? You should see mine."

I laughed but stopped short when I realized that his words could have been taken as an invitation. I idly wondered if he meant them that way, and if so, then we both had invited each other over to our families on the first day of knowing each other. _Way to move quickly, Pidge._

"I'd like to see yours," I said, not even realizing how… _cheesy_ that sounded. This was turning into some cheap romance straight out of a _Twilight_ novel and I wanted to crawl into my bed and never see the light of day again. But at the same time… I meant it. "And your cat, who I hope _isn't_ actually blue and you're just being colorblind again."

Lance offered me a smirk and it was a look I don't think I'd ever get tired of seeing. "How about next week after group therapy we have dinner at my place instead? You might want to bring earplugs, my family's loud."

"I'm sure they're fine," I scoffed, offering him a smile. "That… actually sounds like a good plan. Assuming you still want to come to group therapy."

"Are you kidding? I freakin' love Coran!" He chuckled. "And besides, I'd like to see you again. I know I already thanked your parents a dozen times, but seriously… thank you for inviting me over."

I felt my face grow hot and lungs tighten. I raised a hand to rub the back of my neck out of nervousness. "I… it's no problem, I mean… you're welcome." I finally gained the courage to lift my eyes to meet his gorgeous blues. The contact made me want to shy away once more but somehow I found myself entranced as my eyes stayed glued upon his irises. "I'm glad we were able to meet, since you were able to see Shiro again and all. It was kind of a neat coincidence."

I didn't think his smirk could get any more enticing but it did. "There is no such thing as coincidence, Katie." The way he said it was pure poetry and I almost converted to his philosophy on the spot.

I offered him a playful frown and my rebuttal: "There is no such thing as fate, Lance."

" _We'll see about that_."

 


End file.
